Photos
by Alteng
Summary: There are some interesting photos floating around Hogswart. Part 3 and the final part is now up. Please, read and Review, and more may follow.
1. Default Chapter

Another story that would put me on JK Rowlings hit list if she were to read this.  
  
Anyway, this is James' fault once again, because he came up with this idea. There may be two other scenes to go with this one. Anyway, this takes place during "The Prisoner of Azkaban" story.  
  
Enjoy, Be insulted, and Read and Review!  
  
Photos  
  
Malfoy and his two flunkies sat at the front of the class in potions. When Snape was otherwise occupied in one of his favorite activities (i.e. harassing the Gryffindor losers and making Neville Longbottom feel exceptionally miniscule.), Malfoy elbowed his Neanderthal companions.  
  
"Do you have the goods?" he whispered urgently to them.  
  
The two of them showed the identical blank expression and looked to each other for support, but none was forthcoming from the other. "What goods?" one of them asked.  
  
"The photos, you gits!" he snarled. Good help was so hard to come by these days.  
  
"Oh!" they exclaimed as one hurriedly searching through their clothes, bags, and other places best unmentioned in a desperate sort of way. They eventually ended up pointing at each other in accusations, but the thin platinum blonde youth spotted the small brown bag sitting on the pair's potions book. He snatched it up. He gave a glance over his shoulder. The professor had moved his attacks onto Ron Weasley, and he offered up a bottle of strychnine to the ailing Weasley family rat. Malfoy gave that thin lipped smile. Potter would be next, therefore he had plenty of time to peruse his ill-gotten shower photos of the girls locker room. Normally, he would be more than willing to cheer his favorite teacher on and laugh at the silly Gryffindors, but one must have his priorities straight.  
  
He opened the package and took out the photos. A deep scowl crossed his pale face. he shuffled through the photos with his ire growing. Before he could stand up and properly reprimand his brainless flunkies with the sharp end of his foot to a tender place of the anatomy, Snape swooped over upon him. The long thin fingers of the dark severe potions teacher snatched up the object of Malfoy's desire.  
  
The youth swallowed hard. This deed would be hard to cover up and Snape's detentions were notoriously gruesome. The greasy haired teacher frowned and nodded his head as he gazed at the photo of Professor Sprout, having a pleasant shower with her Herbal Essence. Light flickered across his face at the sight of Professor Grubbly-Plank shaking out her mane of grey hair in the shower. One could have mistaken his look as one of delight as he gazed upon the photo of Madam Hooch bouncing about in the steam filled room. Finally, the corners of the rather sinister potion master's lips twitched at the sight of Professor McGongall lathering up.  
  
"10 points to Slytherin for such fine enlightening aesthetics," he announced.  
  
Malfoy beamed happily at this grand achievement.  
  
"10 points from Gryffindor for not thinking of it first," he finished, "Continue your work."  
  
Snape slithered over to his desk and enjoyed his moments with his newly acquired prize, and he wondered where he could get them enlarged. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: After a long hiatus, I finally wote part 2! Yay! Anyway, that leaves one more to do. Anyway, this story takes place during "Goblet of Fire". I had some comments on the first one because of Scabbers. That story took place during "Prisoner of Azkaban" before it was revealed that Scabbers was really Wormtail.

Nice little warning, there is some slash here, and the Crabbe and Goyle scene was not a slash in my mind, but it does come off that way. I don't believe that any of the characters in Harry Potter are gay, but somehow things turn out that way sometimes. Anyway, my point is take this story in the fun that it is meant to be taken in.

Disclaimer: I have yet again done another atrocity to J.K. Rowling's books!

Photos Part 2

Harry, Ron, and Colin stood around in the Gryffindor boys dormitory. They had been discussing their latest plots and plans as the boys were wont to do, and the younger Colin's face was a deep shade of white that was not content to stay on his face but spread to his neck and the rest of his body, as the upper classmen presented their arguments to borrow the younger's special magical wizard camera. Ron's parents had not the money to spend on such a frivolous item, and performing major brain surgery on Dudley to make him of a human intelligence would be easier than getting Harry's aunt and uncle to splurg on him in this manner. Harry did not want to dip into his sizeable savings to buy one for himself (especially since there was one so handy), because that money was earmarked for his education (and buying special things for a certain Miss Chang). Colin's eyes grew wide as his elders explained their foolproof wicked plans for his prize possession. How could he give into their demands? What would his mother say?

"Oh, come off it! You want to see a picture of Hermione, Katie, Lavender, or the Patil twins, or especially Cho or Ginny as much as we do!" argued Harry in his most convincing way.

Ron's face turned a brilliant shade of red that even dulled his flaming red hair. "I'm not so sure about that photo of Ginny, but everyone else would be most brilliant!"

"But . . . but . . . what if we're caught!" argued the younger in a trembling voice.

"Oh, you worry too much, Colin!" Harry told him, "All we want to do is borrow your camera for a bit. No one will be the wiser."

"Yeah, I'll brave the treacherous terrain and take the pictures myself," Ron assured him. "If anyone gets in trouble, it will be me."

"And I'll tell Dumbledore that we told you we only wanted the camera for nature photos for our Care of Magical Creatures class," Harry backed him up, "And you know the Headmaster is a bit soft on me. Besides, who would expel the boy who defeated Voldemort."

Colin and Ron appropriately cringed at the mention of the evil Dark Lord. The younger boy clutched his camera close to himself for a few more minutes. He looked up from one of the older boys to the other. Finally, with a vast sigh of resignation, he relinquished his favorite magical item to his elders. Harry and Ron gave a whoop of delight. Harry held his hand up high to give his partner a high five, but Ron's face spelled out confusion at the muggle suggestion. Harry only shook it off. With the wicked device of mischief now in hand, the two fourth years put their heads together and plotted out the finer points of their naughty plans. With Harry's invisibility cloak thrown over his head and the Merauder's map in hand (This time Ron was really up to no good. The boys were doing their elders proud!), Ron made his way to the showers.

Two days later, Hedwig made her way to her master with the morning post. She bore a 9"x12" manilla envelope that she casually dropped in Harry's porridge. (Oh well, it was better than what Pigwigeon dropped in Ron's breakfast.) Turning a strange shade of red that bordered on purple, Harry snatched the precious private parcel from a soaking death. Excitement filled his stomach, and the soiled bowl of sustenance was no longer of interest. The same could not be said for Ron though. Not thinking, Harry eagerly went to rip open his mail for all peering and interested eyes to see. He stopped himself short, and casually tied the string back around the flap.

"Uh, I think this is a private matter from dear ole Padfoot," he announced, as he pulled back from the huddled friends and acquaintances of the Gryffindor table.

Hermione gave the two friends a glare that could have easily curdled milk for Harry's lack of tact in the matter. The look did nothing for Harry either, although he could honestly say that he had seen worse coming from Aunt Petunia. Ron, having grown up as the youngest of the Weasely boys was relatively unimpressed by her look. Fred and George had done worse to him, and Mrs. Weasely was a woman to be reckoned with. Knowing full well the delicate subject matter of the envelope in hand, the teen's knees knocked with the star model's expecting eyes on them. Harry hurriedly grabbed Ron and made a beeline for the Gryffindor boy's dorm. Hermione followed them, until Harry turned on her and explained.

"This is a man to man message from Padfoot. You wouldn't understand," he told her with a vast blush. She gave him one of those looks like 'Try me'. So, he added, "It's a personal problem."

Harry slammed the door on her, and Hermione muttered some not so very ladylike things as she marched away from the dorm. Harry leaned against the closed door and sighed a breath of relief at her fading footfalls. Although he knew he would have to face her wrath later, it would be better than letting her in on the parcel of secrets.

Harry turned to scan the sanctuary of the Gryffindor boys dorm to find only Ron there waiting with eager anticipation, but Colin, his younger brother Dennis, Dean, Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Neville and many Gryffindor (and not so Gryffindor invited gusts) boys gathered around. Harry gave a much embarrassed look, but out of the vast urgings and his eager curiosity, he opened the mysterious package, that was from Quickie Print Photo labs and not from Mr. Padfoot at all. On top of the pile of papers enclosed was a cryptic white sheet of paper that read in it bold block script "Tsk-Tsk!" The 14 year old boy did what any boy of his age would do. He crumpled the message and tossed it in the corner for the House Elves to clean up later.

The other boys hung over his shoulders to get a gander of the forbidden fruits thereof. Excitement hung as thick as the morning fog in the air. Another mess for the House Elves to clean up. With the top and foremost photo, shock grabbed hold of the gawking boys like a wedgie. Colin hid the eyes of his younger and more innocent brother. The picture before Harry and the Gryffindors was not at all that what he had expected. His face turned a deadly shade of red that would have done Uncle Vernon proud. In the magically moving photo before him was Draco Malfoy in all his Slytherin glory lathering up.

All breakfasts protested to the max, and Dean Thomas had to actually expel the protesting substance from out of the castle window. Far below and used to such flying matters (and unable to punish the perpetrators because of the Headmaster's rules about non-punishment against actions that cannot be helped.), Argus Filch unfolded his umbrella over his head. Mrs. Norris meowed a "Oh no, not again!" statement.

As the second picture was unveiled, more stomach contents flew. Oh well, the House Elves would earn their pay today. In the phot, Crabbe and Goyle, who did everything together (Mostly due to the fact that they shared one brain) were doing their daily cleansing needs. Each helped the other clean various body parts. Some of the boys stood and looked on with a morbid fascination. Others turned away before all vestiges of good taste were lost forever.

Harry flipped to the next picture in hopes of a light at the end of the tunnel, but he was punished like most sinners were. A frightful sense of foreboding irked into his being as he cracked open his eyes to see the next picture. There he was in all his glory including his steamed up and water splattered glasses and singing animatedly (thankfully) voicelessly "God Save the Queen"! The crowd that had dissipated after the Crabbe and Goyle incident, quickly returned to where The Boy Who Lived turned a most interesting shade of pale green and fell over unconscious with the pictures flying everywhere from his twitching hands.

The last photo of this atrocious fiasco floated out. Ron picked it up, and a self satisfied smug smile crossed his curled lips. The other boys, not having learned their lesson yet, were intrigued and had to go investigate. Things had not been bad enough in the animated pictorial world. Ron proudly turned the picture around for their gawking pleasure. There he was in the photo making many and various photogenic poses in all his glory.

The Gryffindor boys groaned in disgust. There were many and various (and some of a sharp pointy nature) things thrown at the youngest of the Weasely boys.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This is the last part of photos. There are no one else's privacy that we can invade. And yes, it is left to your naughty imagination as to why those who know know. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has reviewed!

Photos Part 3

A mist hung heavy over the early pre-dawn grounds of Hogswart. It was even too bloody early for the resident squid to be awake, but it was not too early for the teachers' morning routine. Yawning and stretching and barely dressed for the day's labor, the professors shuffled their way into the teacher's lounge for the morning tea or whatever the case may be. With eyes half opened, Flitwick was the first to the ominous tea pot. He poured himself a cupful of the murky black brewed substance, that Argus Filch so gleefully made. (It was too early in the morning even for the house elves to be up and about, and Filch was more than happy to comply on this occasion. Oh well, it might be better than Hagrid's tea). The little gnomelike head of Ravenclaw took a hearty swig without doing a thorough examination or thinking. The results were that he immediately and unceremoniously spew the offending liquid over the coffee table. Dumbledore casually walked by his fellow professor and looked down through his sparkling half moon glasses.

"You know better, my dear Flitwick," he stated calmly.

Snape swirled around the contents of his cup, and he could have sworn that something winked at him. There were safer things to drink in the cupboard of his dungeon classroom, and many of those things were submitted by Crabbe and Goyle. "Filch," he growled, but his face remained its same dead pan self, "What did you put in the tea this morning. Maybe a little hemlock?"

Flitwick turned pale, as the castle caretaker only smiled. Mrs. Norris purred in an unusual happiness as she rubbed herself about her owner's legs. "Ah, professor, I would never do anything like that," he replied. Then he added in an under his breath, "Arsenic is much more fun." Mrs. Norris sat herself down and did some well earned (and needed) grooming in the most complete sense of the word.

Professor Sprout downed her tea without a thought and a contented smile crossed her lips. Professor Grubbly-Plank just poured herself a cup of coffee. She had never quite taken to tea. Trelawny just poured her own home brewed tea (that smelled remarkably like cooking sherry) from a muggle device called a thermos.

Dumbledore snapped his fingers and a cup of steaming hot chocolate appeared before him, and a bag of mini marshmallows appeared at his elbow. The cocoa smelled strongly of brandy, but like Trelawny's tea, no one seemed to notice or say anything about it.

Hagrid lumbered his way into the room. Whereas everyone else took up a tea cup to pour their tea into, the gameskeeper just took up the teapot, took off the lid, and poured the contents into his gullet. This caused him to cough as the ticklish furlike something swirled about in his mouth and soon slid down his throat. He beat his chest to move the lump along. He'd swallowed worse while living with his menagerie of magically inclined beasts.

"That was some mighty good stuff there, Argus old fellow! You'll need to brew up some more sometime soon again," he boomed heartily.

Argus' eyes grew wide in disbelief and grumbling some not so nice comments, he snatched the pot away from the clueless half giant and marched out. Mrs. Norris meowed some unladylike things, and if the professor of Care for Magical Creatures knew as much animal talk as he should, he would have turned an entertaining shade of red at her suggestion.

Professor McGonagall marched into the room, and the door slammed behind her like a prison door. Steam would have rolled thicker out of her ears than the fog on the grounds, but ti was presently in it metaphorical stage, and it didn't feel like evolving into its reality form. Her strict drawn face was constricted into livid anger. Even the dimmest of those present cringed. Dumbledore happily plopped a couple of lemon drops into his drink, and he was content to down the drink calmly as the blazing glare attempted to burn a hole through his favorite robe. He'd seen McGonagall in a worse state. The animage slammed down a very incriminating photo in front of the headmaster. At first, the professor turned some amazing shades of a whiter shade of pale. He calmed as he realized that the picture was not from his private collection (But he wouldn't mind adding it to it).

"I found THIS in the hallways on the way here! Someone has been doing the lowest of lows and despicable things right under our noses!" she stated severely.

"I say they have!" chirped the charms professor as he looked over the photo with a scrutinizing eye. The picture was of one of the girls in the shower, but her hair must have been held up in a shower cap, and the shot was only from the back to the thighs without any sign of her hair, that would have aided in her idenity. "They could have taken the shot from her front side . . . "

Professor Sprout casually slapped him in the back of the head and sent him sprawling into Never Neverland at Dumbledore's feet.

"This is horrible! Who would invade a girl's privacy in such a blatant vulgar way!" the head of Hufflepuff complained.

Professor Grubbly-Plank only shook her head sadly. "The young men of this generation are just plain animals!"

"I foresee a modeling career for this young lady," stated Trelawny as she swirled around the remaining contents of her glass. "It's right here in the tea leaves."

Snape narrowed his dark eyes at her. "Sherry does not have tea leaves to read."

"If we just knew who this poor young lady is," stated McGonagall, ignoring her cohorts, "then maybe we would have a clue as to who has been doing these terrible things."

Dumbledore glanced down through his spectacles and nodded. "The mystery is solved, my dear Minerva. This is Miss Granger."

Snape looked over his shoulder and nodded in agreement. "I concur. That is most defiantly Miss Granger."

"Can't be!" argued Hagrid loudly and defensively. "She doesn't have a mole on her left butt cheek like that."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed and he brushed a speck of dirt that had fallen on the picture away. Frowning, the giant groundskeeper nodded. "Yeah, that's Hermione alright."


End file.
